


A Thousand Years

by TeriTheTacticalUnicorn



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Elvhenan, F/M, Friendship/Love, Post-War, Rating May Change, Spirits, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:41:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25244830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeriTheTacticalUnicorn/pseuds/TeriTheTacticalUnicorn
Summary: Kyah Lavellan couldn't stop Solas, and on his dying breath asks her to fix his mistakes, to make him better before things got this bad.WARNING: THIS IS A LORE-BREAKING CRACKSHIP Lavellan x Dirthamen.UPDATE: RATING CHANGEExplicit content begins in Chapter five!
Relationships: Dirthamen & Female Lavellan, Fen'Harel | Solas/Female Lavellan
Comments: 5
Kudos: 10





	1. Dying Breath

**Author's Note:**

  * For [astuarian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/astuarian/gifts).



> I've read a few time travel fics that sends Inky to Elvhenan and they definitely inspired this story. Chapter two may come today or tomorrow!

Solas couldn’t believe what he watched as she stalked towards him. His plans had failed, as had hers. Neither of their worlds were brought back after he brought down the Veil. She was covered in dried blood, grime and mud, but her face was clean. A sunburst came into view as she came closer to him, limping, with a blank expression on her face. 

Both of their forces had fallen in defeat while only the two leaders still stood, if you could call it standing. “Vhenan, what have they done to you?” Solas asked as he caressed her face, a cough escaping his lips as he fell to his knees at her feet. 

“You are my enemy, so I was told,” Kyah said, her once singsong voice now monotonous and dead to his ears.

“No, not anymore… vhenan,” he said, pushing her dark hair from her face and tracing the sunburst that had been branded on her forehead. Placing his lips to the brand, he kissed her forehead and it was almost as she returned for a moment. Her arm wrapped around his waist. 

Instead of trying to break her tranquility, Solas pushed a piece of himself into her. The gasp it elicited made her eyes glow the same emerald green as his magic that had claimed her arm so long ago.

“Solas, what… happened?” she said, looking around. The dagger she held poised at Solas’s back fell from the prosthetic arm that Dagna made. It clattered against the stone road. “Kyah, vhenan, we are running out of time,” he said, collapsing into her arms.

“No, no, no, no, you stupid,  _ stupid _ elf. What did you do?” Kyah asked as she gently went down with him in her arms.

“What I should have done long ago, vhenan. I made you whole again. I would not have you tranquil, my love. Not even at the cost of Elvhenan. Take this, go and live,” he said, placing a familiar amulet into her right hand.

“Alexius’ amulet… but how… where? And without you? I can’t, you cannot expect me to…” she sputtered before Solas claimed her lips once more.

“I will be there, I promise. Stop all… of this,” he said as his eyes drooped. Ash swirled in the wind and some beast made itself known off in the distance.

“After everything… you’re not allowed to die. I love you, Solas,” she said, tears falling as his head fell against her abdomen. Her cries could be heard from every corner of Thedas for hours. There was no one left to hear them but blighted and misshapen creatures. Even when his body turned to ash in her lap, she sat there and cursed everything that forced both of their hands to this point. 

She had watched so many die, some slain by his hand. And yet she still held him in her heart, believing that she could turn him away from his dark path before it was too late. Then Calpernia had made her tranquil when she would turn her back on the hopeless to find Solas.

Anger boiled up into her core and the cry she let escape could have brought the Frostbacks to heel. That’s when she looked down at her clenched fist, her knuckles caked with dried blood. The time travel amulet still lay in her palm. 

She didn’t stand. Instead, she stayed as she was, under the rotting vhenadahl, and held the amulet in both hands as she recalled Dorian’s incantation. She closed her eyes and whispered the words. She turned to face the dark sky. 

When she awoke, she was moving under a bright blue sky. She hadn’t seen such a beautiful, clear sky in years. Spires of white and gold floated above her and she said, “Solas you should see this.” Her eyes closed as exhaustion claimed her. She would not wake for three days after.

“What is it? A sun?” The voice she heard was both familiar and different. It sounded like Solas, but younger, more curious.

“It seems that way, Ser. Pride, if I may, what does Mythal plan to do with this woman?” another woman asked as she brushed Kyah’s hair.

“I do not yet know. She was found near the place where the sky is held. She was alone. No one has ever seen her before,” Solas said as he watched her green eyes flutter open.

“I was told you asked for me by name as you were brought here. But I do not know you, do I?” he asked. This Solas looked different. The most dramatic change was his hair - he  _ had _ hair. It was braided, with golden bands strung about it, and the sides of his head were shaved. His face was less stern, more carefree. This was the Solas she had always imagined. He had not yet garnered the scars that used to spatter his face.

“I’m Kyah. I was told to seek you out when I arrived. I do not know what for. My… informant, died shortly after,” she replayed it in her head.

“Mythal found you as she rode in the mountains, but we do not know what the mark on your forehead means,” Solas said as Kyah sat up and took in her surroundings. It was night time. Music flowed through the open-air room and it soothed her as a spirit of calm came through the window.

"May I speak to Mythal now? I have information that she must hear." Kyah stood on shaky legs, but she noticed most of her injuries were gone. Her chocolate hair hung in clean ringlets down to her bottom and she was wearing an unfamiliar nightdress.

"Leave us!" Mythal said as she entered the room. The four attendants and young Solas bowed and left. Kyah also bowed her head as Mythal approached her. 

She was very tall, her golden hair in a perfect braided crown. She also wore bedclothes under a silk robe. "Young lady, you were quite a mess when I found you near to death," Mythal said, real concern in her voice and on her brow.

"Yes, well, I was very near death before I arrived in your time. I am from the future, Mythal. I have important information about the  _ durgen'len _ and your fellow Evanuris, if you'll listen," Kyah said, sitting on the plush bench at the end of the oversized featherbed. 

"You have my attention," Mythal said, sitting on the chaise. 

"I am Kyah Lavellan, from the year 9:56 Dragon. In my time, Pride has become vengeful over your death. He awoke a year before a breach in a Veil he erected blew up the humans’ holy place. I picked up Pride's foci, and the mark of his magic lay in my left palm for three years as I used it to close the rifts and the breach…" Kyah told her story to Mythal, every detail, including loving Solas until his final moments, how he died in her arms.

“That is quite a tale, Lady Kyah. One that I, unfortunately, believe. I know that my children and their spouses plot to overthrow me,” she said, her voice lilted as Flemeth’s once had. 

“I have the knowledge from your  _ vir’abelesan _ , from the southern temple. Abelas once helped me greatly until Pride cut him down as he protected me. I cannot allow these things to happen, Mythal. I once wore your markings upon my face to honor you. Pride took them, but here he wears them proudly now. I do not understand.” Kyah stood with Mythal on the balcony as they watched other elves, along with their elven and human attendants, scurry about in the middle of the night. The magic was in the air here; Kyah could feel it with every rise and fall of her chest.

“Pride… Solas, as you have come to know him, is my top General. He is only a thousand years old, but he is knowledgeable,” Mythal said. “It is decided then. You will stay here as my War advisor and I will reinstate your role as an Inquisitor, Lady Kyah. Your information will be useful, and your markings, the one that marked you as harmless, will be removed. You may once again wear my markings in gold as Pride does. I thank you for your candor. It is a relief to have someone be honest to me,” Mythal said, taking Kyah’s tear-stained, heart shaped face in her hands. She wiped the tears away as a mother would.

“Thank you for believing me. It sounded daft as I retold every step of the last fourteen years of my life,” Kyah said as she gave Mythal a slight side-hug, which Mythal reciprocated.

“My new Inquisitor and War Advisor, my right hand, as it were. Please do not tell Pride what you have confided in me, Lady Kyah. It would devastate him,” Mythal almost pleaded as she glided towards the gold-inlaid double doors. Kyah smiled and nodded, a wash of relief came over her when the doors clicked shut. 

She wasn’t tired, as she should be. She wondered about what Solas had once told her, that spells could take hundreds of years to cast in Elvhenan. Did this mean the Elvhen didn’t need to sleep unless they chose Uthenera?

Kyah watched the sun rise above silver and gold spires that floated around the grand palace she was in. Attendants silently filed into her room with clothing, a marble bath, and someone to remove her Tranquil marking and replace it with Mythal’s. She was asked to attend Mythal’s court as soon as she was decently prepared. 

Now Kyah looked at herself in the too-large mirror in her chambers; her dark hair was in a tightly wrapped bun with intricate braids and tendrils of curls laying upon her shoulders. She wore a leather-bound corset top and long hunter green skirts. What remained of her left arm was bound in the same leather as her top. The markings of Mythal were golden and shone in the light; golden chain earrings showed her as someone of great importance in Mythal’s entourage. The golden cuff she wore at her wrist matched the beautiful collar that was attached to her top and fastened at her throat. She also wore a handmade circlet of silverite with crystals inlaid into it. 

Kyah had only looked this nice once, at the Winter Palace so many years ago. 

One of her newly appointed guards awaited her outside of her door. She placed her well-known Inquisitor’s mask over herself. She stood tall, shoulders back, chin level with the floor - Josephine’s training would not go to waste here. After being guided to the doors of the throne room, spirits of sorrow, love, and compassion now flanked her silently. 

_ “Introducing Lady Inquisitor Kyah, Right Hand of Mythal, Great Inquisitor of the Unfaithful and War Advisor to our Most Beloved,” _ a tall male elf in golden and white robes announced her as everyone that had gathered to the sides bowed until she stood to Mythal’s right. Solas stood to her left, stock straight, his hands folded lightly behind him. He smiled in her direction just before Mythal brought the Court to heel.

No, Josephine’s training  _ would not _ go to waste here. Kyah was a master at the game, and now she was the Knight on the chessboard, able to jump several squares if she needed to. 


	2. And Kyah makes Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyah has been the center of attention in Arlathan for a few weeks. She has caught both good and bad eyes that watch her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a turning point for Kyah's character and her love life. This is where that second relationship tag begins to come into play.

After two weeks, Kyah quickly became one of Mythal's most trusted Advisors, to Pride's surprise.

Kyah could be found in a courtyard before dawn each morning, dressed in clothes no true Elvhen  _ woman _ would wear with a tall pole attacking invisible threats. 

"Lady Kyah?" Pride asked as he walked into the courtyard with a book in his hand. "That is not proper attire." He seemed taken aback when she turned her glowing eyes in his direction, but quickly quelled the magic inside of her.

"Mythal has no troops who are trained in hand to hand combat. I am very  _ well _ trained in such techniques," she said, putting the long pole in the crook of her right arm. She pulled the leather glove on her left prosthetic back up to cover the metal fittings.

"Do you mind if I ask how you lost your arm, my Lady?" he asked, looking at the fittings before she covered them back up.

"Magic that did not belong to me was forced upon my left hand a long time ago. Though useful for the situation I found myself in, the magic burned through me. My arm was the price of such magicks. Is there a reason you're so curious,  _ Lethallin _ ?" Kyah looked at him quizzically. They didn't usually speak unless in private quarters with Mythal, who Kyah could see from one of the marble bridges watching the scene unfold with a smile.

"You're an enigma to me, Lady Inquisitor. Only a few I have met keep their emotions  _ inside _ ," he said. Sensing the emotional auras of people around her was definitely a new thing; she was still getting used to it. 

"I was not raised around those who radiate their emotions. It is quite a new experience, but I will consider it. I am still grieving, which we have discussed. You must give me time to process the emotions for myself before I allow others to feel them as well," Kyah said just as Sorrow and Compassion came into her periphery. It was easy to tell what someone was feeling when spirits of such emotions hung around them constantly.

Compassion reminded her so much of Cole, the spirit who took a broken body, made it whole, and became a person. He did so just to help people. He also died in her arms. As Solas walked away, the small elf woman dropped to her knees and Compassion came to her side.

"He was your friend. His death mattered, Kyah," Compassion said, speaking as Cole once had, reading her emotions and memory.

It made her think of the questions Josephine would ask her: "What would you do if tomorrow was your last day?" Josie's sweet Antivan lilt filled her mind, and she remembered her answer was that she'd tell Solas that none of this was his fault. 

If everyone had believed her, had cared about the all too real threat to their world before the chaos began, she… maybe she could have… Now Kyah realized what Sera meant by saying she hated Pride. Pride… the  _ wrong _ kind, could easily be twisted by fear and doubt into vengeance.

That's when the ground began to quake beneath Kyah's feet. Beautiful marble cracked and groaned against the magic keeping it together and a crack formed at Kyah's feet as she stood and backed away. Pride was next to her in a moment, as were Mythal and Kyah's guards.

"Are you alright, Lady Inquisitor?"

" _ Lethallan,  _ are you injured?" 

"Come, Pride, Kyah. Chambers, now." Mythal began walking back into the palace.

Kyah picked up her practice pole and handed it to one of her guards before removing the glove on her right hand. This was the time when the Titans were a problem. 

Once in Mythal's secret War Room, Pride and Kyah took their seats next to Ghila, the Ambassador of Mythal who reminded Kyah of Josephine in almost all aspects besides her race, voice and ears. Her dark, raven hair, copper skin, the golden and blue silks she liked to wear were so familiar. Kyah had almost called her Josie a couple times. 

"Your Greatness, I feel this is an attack on Arlathan…" Ghila began, pointing her quill in the air.

"That's quite funny, Ghila. No. The Forgotten Ones are not attacking anyone. The  _ durgen'len _ are trying to stop the tremors," Kyah said, pulling a scroll of parchment from the belt at her curved waist. She tossed it on the map of Elvhenan. "I have made contact with the current Dwarven leader, on my own time, of course. She tells me that the Forgotten Ones will not quiet, that something poisons one of them. I do not yet know of any kind of poi…  _ oh no _ . We need to get down there before the Old Ones, the Firstborn, are awakened by these tremors. I think I know what frightens the Forgotten Ones." Mythal gave a knowing nod. She had told Mythal of Lyrium, and Red Lyrium. 

"Gather who you will require, Kyah. Anyone you wish will be at your disposal," Mythal said, and Pride looked at Kyah expectantly.

"I will require the courtyard outside of my wing to be outfitted for training purposes, Mythal. I will not go anywhere with untrained companions," Kyah said, picking a leaf out of her hair. 

"Whatever you require, Kyah. You will have it. I will let the smith know you will require weapons, and more of the strange poles as well as staves," Mythal promised. 

Two days later, the courtyard had been transformed into proper training grounds. Kyah stood at the center, Pride circling her. She had already dropped him eight times, and the training had gained hundreds of onlookers. Elves gathered in every corner of the surrounding bridges and windows. 

"You cannot get cocky, Pride. My life, the lives of everyone else here that will accompany us, may depend on your seriousness in  _ this _ training," Kyah said in her authoritative voice, loud enough for everyone who watched to hear. 

"I am trying, but I am not trained in this!" It was almost a whine, like a child who couldn't reach the biscuits on the counter in the kitchens. 

"Take a break. Get some water," she said and Solas nodded.

"I think I can take her. She must weigh as much as a feather!" some noble prick said, and she recognized his crown of that of Dirthamen.

"Son of my Queen, you believe you can best me? Then come and try," Kyah said. The simple pole was like an extension of her left arm. She curtseyed low, bowing her head without breaking away from his golden gaze as he smirked. 

The quartermaster tossed the tall prince a pole as he pulled his dark robe from his shoulders, and handed a guard his crown. The twin of the God of Death, Dirthamen was a foot taller than Kyah, and twice as broad in the chest and shoulders.

She bowed, respectfully, to the Prince as he stepped into the ring. Mythal shook her head, but not at Kyah. "Remember, my Lord. Don't get cocky," she reminded him, as he arched a brow and smirked dramatically.

The fight ended nearly as quickly as it began. Kyah poised herself above the large Prince, her pole poised at his throat. "You were saying, my Lord?" she said, watching him breathe hard when she had barely broken a sweat. 

"I concede, Lady Inquisitor. My mother certainly knows talent when she sees it." Dirthamen gave her a flirtatious wink as he stood, towering above her and running his hand through his long black hair.

Kyah smiled and bowed her head. She didn't know how to feel after gaining yet another man's eye. Hers were supposed to be set on Solas… Pride. She tried very hard not to think of him, every little quirk she recognized from her lost love. This Solas was happy, content with the way things were. 

The rest of the day was spent knocking potential companions on their asses. Not a single one could compete with Kyah's skills in hand to hand, and magic was not permitted, anyone who thought themselves clever was removed by a guard.

After dining with Mythal, Ghila and Pride, Kyah returned to her wing of the large, opulent castle. She had to admit being Inquisitor of Mythal had come with quite the perks. But it was still a dream to Kyah. 

Her mind was still in that glen near Skyhold, where he had taken her vallaslin, left her, and died in her arms. She leaned her right arm on the marble banister looking over the now empty training yard. She had become Cullen; she sought to embody everything he had taught her. But he wasn't here to witness it. 

She was compassionate, like Cole. But he was not here to soothe her soul, which now held a significant piece of Solas within it. 

Kyah embodied everyone who made her what she was now. She was diplomatic like Josephine, a little brash like Cassandra. She was funny and witty like Varric, and a little cocky like Iron Bull. While she was as caring and practical as Dorian, she definitely took  _ no _ bullshit, just like Sera. And like Vivienne, she had a knack for seeing through people. A little piece of each of them still lived on with her, and she could feel it in every little thing she did. 

The warm breeze made her sapphire gown billow behind her, and made the gossamer curtains float with every wisp of warm air. Golden cuffs strained against the toned muscles of her upper arms, but she did not wear the new prosthetic unless she was around other people. The mechanism was created by June himself. 

The way people turned their nose up at her, you'd think she smelled. A woman who wore breeches and leather bound tops instead of flowing gowns all the time. Kyah preferred her hair down, or in a simple warrior’s tail instead of in intricate styles. 

She really  _ was _ an enigma. Some saw her as a revolutionary, but neither were true. Mythal, Pride and Ghila had all been told why she wore the clothes she chose, and she did dress properly in court and for dinner. 

She now sat on the marble banister, watching Dirthamen, Falon'Din and Pride speaking in her courtyard. They hadn't yet noticed her, dangling her bare feet from the fifth floor. "I do believe this to be my wing of the castle, gentlemen," she said, her curls hanging over her shoulders. Her left arm was bound in leather as she had removed the prosthetic for the evening.

Leaping from the banister with ease, she landed, crouched between them, her dress untouched by the landing from so high. Dirthamen and Falon'Din were impressed by her; Pride scowled at the twin princes gawking. 

"Lady Inquisitor. I was telling my brother of my defeat this afternoon. You are quite the force of nature," Dirthamen complimented, indiscreetly looking at her missing arm. 

"You know, it's very rude to stare, your highness," she said, as her attendant Elaine brought a goblet of wine.

"Apologies, my lady. May I ask?" Dirthamen wondered.

"Magic. It was a price I paid. Your Uncle, June, has helped me with the false limb I use." She began to walk back inside, feeling all three sets of eyes on her back. That's when a masked elf landed in front of her, placing a curved dagger at her throat. His markings suggested Ghilan'ain. 

Without thinking, she twisted the dagger from the man's hand a half breath later. Quickly kicking his knees from under him, she slit his throat in less than a moment. Gasps came from behind her.

"Very useful to have around indeed," Dirthamen's impressed voice came to her ears as she turned.

"She certainly will not need to be fearful of future assassin's our brother sends," Falon'Din said.

Pride stepped up next to her as guards filled the courtyard, her eye and sword symbol on their armor. "Please remove this filth from my courtyard,  _ now _ ," she ordered. 

"Come, Kyah. Let us report this to Mythal. That is the sixth assassin you have dispatched this week." Pride offered his right arm, and she took it, giving the twin Gods a goodbye smile. 

Mythal was both worried for Kyah and pleased with her. She was thereafter known as Kyah the Warrior. That is how she would be remembered in history. The tenth member of the Elvhen Pantheon that time would not forget. 

She had never wanted to be a legitimate part of Elvhen history in that way.


	3. And a New Love Blossoms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyah is now the Goddess of Prophecy and Legend, but her new gifts come at a cost. Every decision she or Pride making tearing and pulling at the fabric of a time already lived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to b reminded that Ghilan'ain is a female, so past chapters will be edited accordingly.

Twelve weeks later, the Elvhen who showed the most promise were limited, but quick studies. 

Nai'enan Berren, part of Mythal's royal guard, had become very proficient with a two-handed cleaver. He was as tall as Dirthamen, with a talent for fire magic. His ash blonde hair was tied in a bun at the back of his head and he was very quick to knock Kyah down. He was the first to do so.

Velena was a quiet and scholarly woman that Kyah saw alone one night. Despite her parents’ disapproval, she was practicing with a bow. She never missed the target, even a moving one Pride had set up to float around and zip across the courtyard. Velena's age gave Kyah pause - she was only twenty, one of the youngest of the Elvhen. Though she couldn't best Kyah with a large weapon, her hand-to-hand skills with practice daggers were amazing. Mythal granted her the leave of her parents, who took the promotion with a grain of salt.

Evune, once a spirit of Love given form like Cole, was a necromancer. Her skills had surpassed Dorian's by a thousand years. She usually served funeral rites to the dead, but was granted a spot on Kyah's shortlist for her skillset. She wasn't bad with a blade at the end of her staff, either. 

Vinus, a master of puzzles and contraptions, had studied under June. He made several upgrades to Kyah's new prosthetic when she told Mythal she did not want a new, permanent arm. He was also great at noticing and disarming traps, as well as setting them, and his accuracy with lightning would come in handy. 

Nuanin, a sprightly boy of  _ only _ sixty-two was their alchemist and healer, though he didn't really have what it took to best anyone. He was chosen for his alchemical potions and healing tonics. His mother was beside herself with joy when Kyah the Slayer handed her Mythal's writ of conscription. 

And with Pride, there was very little to stand in Kyah's way. She had taken up Mythal's cause and become a part of an ancient Pantheon that, before she met Solas, she saw as mostly fairy tales meant to scare children. 

She had caught the eye of Dirthamen with a force that surpassed the one that pulled Solas to her. He did little things for her, like left her flowers. He'd also send her boxes of the tiny cakes made by the baker En'ahn, the ones he knew she loved. He liked to sit on the bridge with his black and white ravens and watch her train her companions. 

Mythal had asked her not to tell Solas of their shared future, but keeping it to herself became harder each day. 

"Lady Kyah, a missive has just arrived for you," one of her runners, Alyenna, said as she entered the courtyard.

"Thank you Alyenna, I will take it in my office. Evune, that blade isn't going to stab anything if you don't  _ block with it _ ! Use all of your body weight and push Berren away. Like… this!" she said with a staff in her hand, as she motioned for Berren to come at her. She forced him to his knees and brought the staff blade millimeters from his throat.

"Yes, my Lady." Evune went back to practicing, catching on quickly. 

Kyah pulled her gloves off, her silverite arm not really drawing as much attention as it once had. She took the sealed scroll from Alyenna. 

Pride strode into her office as she pored over Ghilan'ain's death threats. "More?" he said, slightly amused as she looked up at him, crumpled up the parchment and set it aflame.

"You'd think after twelve failed attempts, she'd give up. I am not the one that feels threatened," she said, running her hands through her crazy curls after pulling them free of their braid. 

"Mythal tells me you are not from our time. Is that true?" he asked, sitting in one of the chairs in front of her desk. The question surprised her.

"It is. I am from the future. Very  _ very _ far into the future. 9:56 Dragon, to be exact, was the year when I traveled here. My future was over, my  _ Thedas _ burned to ash. My…" she gulped, trying to hold back tears that fell unbidden, "... friend, he died to get me here, to help all of you see." She stood and turned to face out of the archway, looking out over the training courtyard. 

"I am sorry, my friend. It must've been horrible," he said, sadness creeping into his indigo eyes. 

"It was. But it's in  _ my _ past. And hopefully it will never come to pass in your future, little wolf. Now, we have a ball to attend before we leave tomorrow morning. Let us go fetch our companions, and ready ourselves," she said. But before she could escape the room, Pride's hand found hers and pulled her to him. His kiss surprised her. It was something familiar, something of  _ him _ . But she pulled away quickly; it didn't feel right.

"I will await your entrance, Kyah," Pride said, leaving her a muddled mess of emotion standing in the middle of her office. Cheering came from the courtyard as every one of her companions saw what happened.

"That's enough, go get readied for tonight," she called as a blush blossomed over her pale skin and crept to the tips of her ears. 

Two hour marks later, she stood in front of the giant mirror once more, as her attendants pulled the laces of a white corset tight. She held the crown of the Golden Halla in her hand. Each of her attendants now wore  _ her _ markings upon their faces: leaves that trailed down the center of their faces and branched out, almost opposite of Mythal's branches. She now stood barefaced once again. Mythal had been planning to announce her ascension to the Pantheon, though everyone now knew of Kyah the Warrior, Kyah the Slayer, Kyah the Inquisitor. She was granted a seat among the Pantheon, six out of eight members agreed to it. Mythal asked her to pick her representation. She chose the Golden Halla, because it had always been how people saw her and who she became. Her markings, living leaves on branches climbing down the face, gave people strength. 

Mythal was even having Kyah create plans for her own castle. She chose to have Skyhold built from her memories, with Wisdom's help. Now she stood in a pure white gown with golden filigree branches embroidered on the corset. A white leather glove replaced the usual brown one on her left arm. Her hair was down in their natural curls, not in any elaborate style. 

"My Queen? May I?" Niniette asked. She was handed the Halla crown, which was carefully placed atop her head after a gold necklace was clasped around her neck. 

It was surreal.  _ She _ was a part of the Elvhen Pantheon. A Dalish heretic, who never even believed in the Gods until she fell in love with one of them and was granted immortality when he pushed his soul into her.

That's when a memory came crashing down on her, and she fainted. 

_ "Solas! Var lath vir suledin!" she heard herself shout, and felt the pain in her palm. _

_ "I wish it could, vhenan." Solas closed the distance and his eyes glowed white. "My love. I will never forget you," he said kissing her, removing her arm, and leaving her crying in the Crossroads. _

A bright white flash and she was laying in Dirthamen's lap. "You stay away from her  _ Wolf! _ " Dirthamen hissed at Solas. 

"What?" Kyah said as she sat up, rubbing her temples. 

"That cannot be my future, I would never…" Solas said, pain evident in his voice. He had seen himself hurt her, break her heart. 

"You weren't supposed… to know," she finished after he left her room, slamming the door. Dirthamen helped her stand. He had a gentle hand as he helped her steady herself. 

"Thank you, Dirthamen. I owe you my gratitude," she said, picking up her crown and placing it on her expertly made bed. She sat down on the chaise to pout. 

"The wolf hurt you, long ago. But not. It hasn't happened to him yet,” the God of Knowledge and Secrets said as one of his ravens cawed from the balcony. 

"No, it hasn't happened to  _ him _ yet. But it did happen to me. Mythal did not want him to know," she said, tossing a chair across the room with her magic, shattering the large mirror purposefully. 

"Come, Goddess of Prophecy and Legend. I will accompany you this evening," Dirthamen said, his black hair falling over his shoulder as he bowed, offering his hand. Taking it, Dirthamen placed her crown back on her head. He cradled her face and wiped away the stray tears that fell from the pain of the memory.

"Why are you so kind to me?" she asked as they walked down candlelit hallways towards the music.

"You have given me nothing but kindness, Lady Kyah. Even accepting my gifts as you do," he said, looking at her as they walked.

"I knocked you down the first time we met!" she nearly shouted, to Dirthamen's amusement. 

"And no woman besides my mother can best me. You are remarkable for one so young. You have come far in the time you've been here. I was among the first to vote you into the Pantheon, while the Wolf wanted you to stay in your current position, as did Ghilan'ain and Andruil. Mythal told me of your past with the Wolf just before I had come to speak with you this evening." Dirthamen walked with the grace of a God. He paid attention to the things she enjoyed, and without permission, had gifted them to her with no expectations.

"Mythal told you my story? How I was not Elvhen until an old soul was gifted to me by a dying God? How my people have forgotten  _ all _ of this in my time?" 

He nodded in response to her questions. "I am very good at keeping secrets, Kyah. I did not know you'd change the future so quickly. Do you intend on returning to your time?" he asked, his golden eyes searching. 

"No, I intend on staying as long as time allows. But I must keep Pride off of that dark path of my future. That means protecting your mother and making sure you do not go to war with the Forgotten Ones. That is what my task is, and I fully intend to see it to its end," she said, pulling the mask back from herself. 

"Noble goals. You are the Hero of your story, both figuratively and in reality. That is why I wish to see more of you, Kyah. After you get back, we will have plenty of time,” he said as they approached the huge doors of the ballroom. 

The doors opened and fanfare erupted. Pride's face fell as he stood at the bottom of the staircase. He backed away slowly, rejoining Mythal.

" _ Introducing: King Dirthamen, God of Secrets and Knowledge accompanying Queen Kyah, Goddess of Prophecy and Legend," _ the same announcer said as the two stark contrasts entered arm in arm. Gasps erupted from the crowd. Several women looked at Kyah with daggers in their eyes. 

In truth, Dirthamen knew more about her than anyone in Elvhenan. Her favorite flowers, her favorite indulgences. Her mind wandered as he left her to speak to his brother. 

Once Andruil was announced, the music and merrymaking really began. Dirthamen had pulled her to him by her waist and whispered  _ ma vhenan _ in her ear. His deep voice sent chills down her spine and she giggled for the first time in a long time.

She felt free in Dirthamen's arms, and didn't know why until Pride glared at them and she caught it. He was still the Solas she once knew, and she knew that Mythal's death would push even her beyond the Veil for millennia.


	4. Pain and Suffering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I cried while writing this. I will give a trigger warning, this may not be the story for you if a parent losing a child touches a nerve. Unfortunately, it's part of the story, and not an uncommon thing in Thedas.

Six weeks had passed since they were supposed to leave. A surge of bad weather delayed their plans. When Kyah woke that morning, Alyenna had looked between Kyah and a still sleeping Dirthamen in her bed. "Shhh, come in Alyenna," Kyah said as she stood against one of the archways watching the rains pour.

"Yes, my Queen. I was told to deliver this to your hands only. You didn't… did you?" she whispered and nodded to the half-naked God in Kyah's bed. The woman had become a good friend to Kyah, who shook her head.

"No, I just didn't wish to be alone. Do not worry, I'm above any kind of Godly scandal, Alyenna," she joked as she opened the folded parchment.

"What does this mean? Pride will not join me?" she asked as Alyenna joined her on the dry balcony.

"He will not, my Queen. He wishes to remain and keep watch on Mythal. He sends his apologies, my Queen," Alyenna said. Kyah nodded as she crossed her legs and looked over the drenched training yard. 

"Thank you, Alyenna. We can't leave as long as the rain is coming down like this anyways. Please tell Mythal that I will break my fast in my room with King Dirthamen, but I will see her for court," Kyah said as the God propped himself up on his elbows and smirked. His eyes raked over Kyah in her black nightdress.

"Very good, my Queen. Also, Lord Vinus would like to consult you and your spirit of Wisdom on the plans for your  _ 'Skyhold' _ ." Kyah nodded and Alyenna left as quickly as she'd entered. Kyah put her face in her hands just before feeling strong hands on her shoulders.

"It will be ok,  _ vhenan _ . He hurt you once, do not let him get that chance again," Dirthamen soothed her, and kissed her forehead. 

"He hasn't yet, not to him but… argh!" she cried out and held her head as if it was on fire before her emerald eyes glowed green.

_ A flash in her mind - the faces, in order of how they died. Her friends, almost all cut down by Solas. And she watched it all happen again: First, Abelas, who died protecting Kyah. The same day Vivienne, Cullen and Josephine. Then Cassandra, cut down in Kirkwall in front of Varric and their son. Then Varric, whose bolts wouldn't penetrate Solas' barrier. One after another, dying before her eyes, turned to stone or taking their last breaths in her arms. _

Her screams could be heard throughout the castle as she fell from the chair and onto her knees. She wept, reliving the worst parts of her entire life. The last life claimed by Calpernia was that of Kyah and Solas' twelve year old son. She tried to protect him, but was rendered tranquil moments before. She hadn’t yet known what became of him. 

" _ DHAVIHAL _ !" she screamed, and it broke her. 

When she came back to the now, her screams and cries didn't stop as Dirthamen held her in his lap and rocked her.

"Shhh,  _ vhenan _ , this means you changed those points in time. That is why you are Prophecy," he said, a quiet whisper in her ear as he lifted her with no effort and sat with her on her bed. 

"I didn't know…  _ She killed my son _ !" Anger and rage boiled deep inside her as she screamed her son's name, the memory stuck in her mind that hadn't been there before.

Moments later, her guards, along with Mythal and Pride, burst through the door. "Is she alright, my son?" Mythal asked and she could feel Dirthamen nod against the top of her head.

"I do not believe she is well enough today for court, Mother. The memory she just had was devastating. Something no one should have to endure," he said as he pulled her closer and whispered in her ear.

"I trust your judgement, Son. Take care of her, like I know you will," Mythal said, and Pride looked at the scene before him sadly. He had known her memories became stronger as her power grew, but he didn't realize how torturous they had become until he saw her shaking and crying in Dirthamen's lap. 

If what he had done was  _ that _ bad, he realized, then whatever set him on that course couldn't be allowed to come to pass. Just then her screams began again and her eyes glowed as soon as he had that thought.

"Get the  _ Wolf _ out of here Mother! His decisions, however well-intentioned, make her remember everything that happened to her when  _ HE _ tried to kill her world!" Dirthamen shouted as he held her close. 

Kyah held her prosthetic hand as if it were aflame. She jumped from Dirthamen’s arms and flung herself from the balcony. Dirthamen and Mythal both followed and watched as she turned into a very large, gold and white dragon, though her horns were that of a halla. 

"I thought you said she was born in the future, Mother?" Dirthamen said, in awe as he watched the woman he loved land on a spire and roar. 

"Perhaps not, my Son. It seems she is of the Firstborn, like I am," Mythal said, smiling at what they had discovered. 

Pride also looked on in awe. He had never seen such a thing. She was magnificent, and whatever had happened to bring it out in her was  _ his _ fault. His smile faded and he silently left the room as her wings made the glass shake. She landed in the courtyard, back in her Elvhen form. She once again fell to her knees, this time soaked through from the rain, which hid her tears. She could see her son clearly now, just as he looked when Calpernia slit his throat. She made a Tranquil mother, Kyah, watch without emotions. She did it with a smirk as her son cried for his mother to help him.

Kyah clutched her stomach and wretched. She had carried him for nine months, and gave birth to him. He was her flesh and blood. He was  _ innocent _ ! 

Dirthamen, still in his nightclothes with no shirt or boots, padded out of the archway in front of her. He held out a hand to her, but she shook her head. "I cannot stand, Dirthamen." Kyah said. He nodded and lifted her from where she knelt. White and gold halla horns now protruding from her head, her hair had turned blonde, and she was shivering as Dirthamen brought her back to her rooms.

"I think Queen Kyah has had enough for one morning. Please leave us," Dirthamen said tersely. Guards scattered back to their posts around the squared wing of Queen Kyah. All but Mythal left them as Dirthamen used magic to dry them both.

"You take care of her as if she has already promised herself to you," Mythal noted as she had attendants bring in hot tea and water for a bath.

"She has become… important to me. I cannot explain it," he said, pulling the duvet from the bed and wrapping it around Kyah's shoulders.

"Our histories say that the Firstborn imprinted on those important to  _ them _ . Perhaps  _ she _ was meant for  _ you… _ " Mythal suggested before leaving after the attendants. 

Dirthamen and Kyah spent the day in her room. She told him everything about her son, Dhavihal. "He loved to read, to talk to my friend Varric when we visited Kirkwall. Of course, none of these places exist yet, but they do to me. Hold on…" she said, climbing off the bed as her now blonde hair moved as the wind picked up. She crossed to her desk, picking up the map of the continent, and an inkwell and quill. She sat on the floor, Dirthamen looking at her and smiling as he cocked his head.

He crossed the room to where she sat and kneeled. She was writing place names all over it. Places he knew to be uninhabited had names.

"This is my world, but the map is a bit different. My home while I was a Dalish was here." She pointed near where OSTWICK was scribbled. 

"This is Kirkwall. It will be a trade hub for all races one day. And here, where I want to build, that was where I made an Inquisition rise from the ashes with the help of so many… where my son was conceived and born. Skyhold," she said, her fingers traced the ink as it dried. This place was her soul. 

"How did you not know,  _ vhenan _ ? That you're a firstborn?" he asked. There was no anger, just curiosity.

"I was told I was found abandoned near Ostwick as a child of only five. I was taken in by our Keeper, Deshanna, raised to be her first. When I was twenty, I was sent to spy on the human Conclave, at the temple I told you about here…" she pointed again, just below the one labeled Skyhold. 

"That was where I grabbed Solas' foci, to help the Human’s holy woman who was to be sacrificed. I don't know... I aged like everybody else. I wore my vallaslin proudly until Pride removed them. I killed a self-proclaimed God, I walked  _ inside _ a Forgotten One! I saved the world just to watch everything I loved be taken from me." She began to tear up again, and it broke his heart to see her saddened.

"You're here for a reason, Kyah." He touched her horns, and she giggled. It was the most beautiful sound to Dirthamen, to hear her laugh.

"I can't get the memory out of my head. Of my son… Dirthamen, he was so innocent, so pure of heart. My vhenan hurts, because he's not here to see all of this, to experience the history, or the grandeur. I miss his laugh, his small hands as they held mine as he drifted to sleep," she said as a few tears fell from her emerald eyes. He gently lifted her chin to face him and placed a soft kiss upon her lips. His forehead rested against hers.

"Ma Vhenan, it isn't your fault. None of it is. It's not even happened yet in this time. There's time," Dirthamen said as he kissed her again. He pulled her to him by her waist as she cradled his face in her hands.

"I love you, Dirthamen," she said, as her forehead rested against his once more.

"And I love you, Kyah." He held her to his chest, letting her process all that she had learned. It had been an emotional day for her. But he was  _ here,  _ and he was not going anywhere until she felt the need to dismiss him.


	5. Reach and Flexibility*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am absolute trash at writing smut, but sutsop is not! 
> 
> *EXPLICIT CONTENT CHAPTERS WILL ALWAYS BE MARKED WITH AN ASTERISK*
> 
> THANK YOU ALL YOU ARE AMAZING AND I LOVE YOU ❤️ Enjoy the 🔥

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT AND ISN'T INTENDED FOR THE VIEWING OF ANYONE UNDER 18! I will not be held responsible for anyone under 18 reading this.
> 
> I did not write the smut, that applause goes to sutsop, check out her fics as well! 
> 
> REMINDER: Please do not ask me to change the names/genders/sexuality/weapons class of any of my OCs. It took me quite awhile to get to where I am with this fic, and I plan to continue breaking lore and crackshipping as long as I'm not deterred from it!
> 
> Please do not post this anywhere else without express permission unless you are a part of Jackdaw's server. Then only on the fic doc!

Pride knocked on her door softly before entering her chambers. When he entered, he saw her fast asleep laying, thankfully still dressed, across Dirthamen's chest. 

"Is there something you need _Wolf_? She's had enough for today," Dirthamen said quietly as to not wake her. 

"Mythal only sent me to check on her, Raven. She was worried when she fell silent," he said, watching as Dirthamen's golden gaze fell upon the blonde hair splayed across his chest.

"She fell asleep about two hourmarks ago. And if my Mother was truly worried, she wouldn't send her lackey to check, Wolf. The little Dragon is fine, best to let her sleep." Dirthamen narrowed his eyes at Pride, who nodded and left swiftly.

She stirred, and Dirthamen stiffened. He didn't want to wake her. She had screamed in her sleep a few times, calling out to her son. It broke his heart. How could someone break hers? She cared, deeply. She put everything she was to the side to help people she didn't know. 

She was unlike the other Evanuris in that way; she was so pure. Never dancing around the answer, instead she put it in your face with speaking points as if giving a rehearsed speech. 

In the month since they had spent time together, he'd treasured every moment in her presence. 

Kyah had fallen asleep on the bed as Dirthamen read the histories to her, exhaustion finally claiming her after the turmoil of her morning.

Dirthamen gently slid back into bed beside Kyah an hour later, his movements slow and deliberate so as not to stir her from her slumber again. He laid on his side next to her, head propped up in his hand, as he watched the slow rise and fall of her chest. Her eyelids fluttered and he found himself unable to suppress a grin.

She was beautiful, and he felt himself drawn to her in a way he had never experienced before. Almost instinctively, his hand hovered next to her cheek. He stroked the back of a single finger along her skin, shuddering at her warmth and softness. For all her strength and tenacity on the training grounds, she felt so soft and fragile to his touch. He ran his finger down her cheek again, and watched as her lips tugged up at the corner into a lazy smile. 

“Vhenan?” Dirthamen whispered. 

Kyah hummed softly and turned her face toward his hand. “Need you…” she mumbled sleepily. 

Dirthamen’s breath caught in his throat. It was all he had wanted to hear - not just that she wanted him or that she desired him, but that she _needed_ him. He knew she was exhausted, though, drained from the sheer outpouring of emotion and reliving painful memories.

Kyah shifted, the blankets sliding down her body, revealing a bare expanse of skin covered only by a thin shift. Dirthamen’s eyes raked over the outline of her body, every hard plane and soft curve. She stretched her arms over her head, arching her back, before she turned toward him. 

Dirthamen brought his hand to her face again, hesitantly brushing his thumb over her lower lip. Kyah sighed and, much to his surprise, wrapped her lips firmly around it. She opened her eyes gazing at him intently as her tongue swiped over the pad of his thumb. 

He growled with pleasure, fighting to restrain the urge to seal his mouth over hers, to claim her lips in a passionate kiss. Kyah clearly had other ideas about his restraint, though. Her lips popped off of his thumb with a wet smack, and she gazed him hungrily. There was nothing dazed or sleepy in her gaze, only raw desire. 

Dirthamen smirked as he leaned closer. He watched her body tense with anticipation, but instead of kissing her as she expected, he merely nipped at her lip with the edge of his teeth. One hand rested firmly at her jaw, but the other began a slow slide down the line of her shoulder. He plucked the thin strap of her nightshift between his fingers and slid it down, revealing the tightly pebbled nipple he’d seen so obviously through the silk. 

“I _need_ you,” Kyah gasped again, and this time Dirthamen’s restraint broke. 

He dragged his lips over her chin and down the line of her throat, then eagerly sealed his mouth over her bare breast. He listened to the soft whine that escaped her lips as his tongue laved over the hard peak. She was every bit as eager, every bit as sensitive as he’d hoped. 

Kyah’s hands darted to the back of his head, fingers lacing into his long dark hair as he pulled down the other strap of her shift. She moaned so prettily for him as he paid equal attention to both of her breasts with lips and tongue and the barest hint of teeth. The latter elicited a startled gasp, but she gripped his head tightly, pulling his mouth closer to her. Delicious as they were, though, Dirthamen thirsted for more. 

His hands strayed lower, slipping beneath the hem of her shift. Her thigh was practically burning to the touch and velvety smooth. She squirmed beneath him, her nails scraping over his scalp and down the back of his neck. As he began to slide his palm higher, though, he purred with delight to find she was bare beneath the thin silk. 

“And to think _this_ is what I’ve been laying next to for _weeks_ …” Dirthamen muttered. 

Kyah’s chest shook as she chuckled softly. “I thought you’d take the hint eventually,” she said. 

Dirthamen grinned against her skin. He was eager to not only take the hint, but to surpass it. “Raise your arms,” he said, his voice laced with dark desire. 

Kyah did as she was told, lying still under him as he peeled the thin shift from her body in one fluid motion. She felt the cool air dance over her bare skin as Dirthamen perched above her. He knelt over her for a moment, studying every angle of her, his tongue swiping over his lips like a man gazing upon a feast set before him. Suddenly, his hands swept up her inner thighs in tandem. He pushed her legs apart, palms blistering against her skin. 

“I’ve been longing to know just how sweet _ma’haurasha_ tastes…” Dirthamen said as he lowered himself toward her core. 

Desire, anticipation, and a small measure of anxiety twisted in Kyah’s belly as she watched her lover settle himself between her thighs, looking up at her with a devilish grin. The last man she’d allowed her to touch her in this way… He had destroyed the world. But she trusted Dirthamen, not only with her pleasure, but with her heart. 

He kissed the inside of her thigh as he slipped a single finger between her folds, pleased to find her as wet and eager for his touch as he had hoped. Kyah’s hands fisted into the sheets as Dirthamen slowly eased another finger inside of her. Her whole body felt taut and tensed, and a flush of embarrassment washed over her as she realized that he had still barely touched her at all. 

Dirthamen kissed his way closer to the apex of her thighs as he curled his fingers slightly within her. He flicked his tongue light over her sensitive bud, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from Kyah. 

“Even sweeter than I thought,” he said. But just as quickly as he began, he stopped, pulling his hand away from her, slipping it into his own mouth. His eyes fluttered closed as he savored the taste of her, and the sight of her willing and bared in front of him. 

“You’re terrible…” Kyah said breathlessly, teetering on the edge of release. 

Dirthamen gave a throaty laugh, smirking at her. “Terrible?” He nudged her knees wider, settling himself between her legs as he swept one arm beneath the small of her back. 

“Terrible, am I?” he said, his tongue licking a stripe along the line of her throat as he positioned himself just at her entrance. He ached to feel her around him, but he was, after all the God of Secrets.

Kyah tilted her hips forward a fraction, trying to urge him on. She was strong. She was 

used to having power, having control. But he countered her every movement, laughing against her ear as she writhed beneath him. 

“Yes, I am truly terrible,” he said, his voice a low purr as he took the tip of her ear gently between his teeth. She wrapped her legs around his waist, moaning a soft _“Please”_ against his shoulder. 

Dirthamen relented, and the God of Secrets revealed himself, thrusting into her in one smooth stroke. He was overwhelmed by the sensation of her, tight and wet around him, her heels digging into the small of his back, her soft whimper filling his ears. The scent of her arousal filled his nostrils, and he was wholly consumed by every aspect of their joining. He had _longed_ for this… 

“Fuck,” Kyah gasped, clutching onto him tightly as he began to find his rhythm. Her hips moved in time with his every thrust, torn between a desire to seek the release she needed but also to draw out every ounce of pleasure he could give her. 

She enveloped him perfectly, as if they were made for his, made to fit together. It was beyond what either of them had anticipated. Her breathy panting spurred him on, as he thrust into her more quickly, filling her over and over again. He could feel that she was close, and he shortened his strokes, dangling release just beyond the edge of her grasp. 

“Not yet,” Dirthamen said. 

Kyah’s fingers tightened on the back of his neck, her nails digging into his skin in frustration. She was achingly close, and torn between loathing him and lusting for him. She wanted relief, _needed_ relief. If he wasn’t going to play fair, then why should she. 

She brought her lips close to his ear, tracing the edge of it with her tongue before she whispered again, _“Please.”_

Dirthamen growled and finally thrust in again, seating every inch of his length within her. He hadn’t played fair, but neither had she. He could deny her nothing, especially when she begged into his ear in a breathy gasp. 

He buried himself inside her again and again, feeling her tense beneath him before she finally moaned loudly. Relief washed over her as Dirthamen felt her clench around him, her nails raking along his back as she came. Unable to hold himself back, he thrust once, twice more before spilling inside of her. His mind, always seeking, always swirling, went blank, consumed only by the sight of the beautiful woman beneath him and the unfathomable pleasure of his climax. 

They both lie there for a moment, a sheen of sweat over their skin, the room silent but for the slowing gasps of their breath. 

"I don't want you to leave me, Kyah." Dirthamen's golden eyes found her emerald ones as he traced the line of her spine.

"I must go when the rains let up, vhenan. I wouldn't go unless it was urgent, you know that," she said, placing her right hand on his cheek.

They lay there just talking until a knock on her door startled them. Kyah slid the black silk shift back over her nakedness as well as a silk robe, to Dirthamen's displeasure, before opening the door to allow Alyenna and Kyah's attendants to bring in their supper.

Alyenna went over what was discussed in court that day as she and Kyah went over letters and missives.


End file.
